When talking, voting, swallowing your pride and patient hoping fails

The Last Poets, of Chuck D or not, were not right in this case. A revolution had been televised, since first the flu of freedom flew, as such things do tend to do, through our fragile neighbourhood.
Even we, freed before though we might have been, are not immune. Are those complaints, those demands of our North African semi-brethren, any different to ours? Do our youth have prospects any better than the million men in Tahrir square? Are their certificates any less useless? Less meaningless? Has economics failed them any less than it has us?
Are we not smoking cigarettes of silly, privileged apathy in flammable frustrated nations suffused with fumes of anger, crushed hopes, deferred dreams and any-minute-now igniting points?
Are we any closer to the bone, to mix a messy metaphor? Shees, man. How much tinned food do you have on you? When the 3 in 4 who don’t work decide they’ve nothing left to lose by taking to the streets in protest instead of job search, drivers’ tests, and your daily dose of sustenance is suddenly no longer there, how long do you reckon you’d last then?
How long before you join them? Would you? Would you watch it on TV? Would you watch it, wait it out, or would you want it? Are you waiting for it now?
Are you inspired by the sight of people taking charge of destiny, or a bit unnerved? Disturbed? Have you heard? A million men marched to make Mubarak move?
When more people are invested in changing the status quo than in trying to make it stay just so, and when the thin blue line of play-play peacekeeping policing can’t hold things back no more. Then it won’t be held back, for sure.
Don’t wanna be a doomsayer, but I’m just saying. You don’t need a dicator to be oppressed, as many are. And many are. And we are not immune.
Angry people make things happen for themselves. When talking, voting, swallowing your pride and patient hoping fails. Then the spell that keeps us tied together breaks. And it’s time to make another one.
It happened here once, it’s fertile ground. Sound in principal one time, not so much in implementing these times, I’d say. And it’s that way in plenty poorer places these dark days.
The people get their way, one way or the other, one day, whether we would wanna wish it any other way. And one day we will be those people, like we were one time.
Many were and will be one day too again in many shapes or forms of ballot boxes, some, or revolutions other times. Marches make things happen, cyber stuff does too. Communication’s better soon. Talking, listening and acting on it. There’s many ways to get a message through.
So be cool not cruel all you who rule.

Angry people make things happen for themselves. When talking, voting, swallowing your pride and patient hoping fails. Then the spell that keeps us tied together breaks. And it’s time to make another one.